


In Comic Veritas

by Laparoscopic, Zee_McZed



Category: El Goonish Shive
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Freudian Slips, Illustrated, Mild Angst, Or they would be if Freud wasn't spectacularly debunked, Post canon, Seriously feckin illustrated, WOO, friends to something more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laparoscopic/pseuds/Laparoscopic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee_McZed/pseuds/Zee_McZed
Summary: Sarah draws a webcomic.Sarah's webcomic features characters "heavily inspired" by people she knows.Sarah's webcomic has a tendency to get away from her sometimes.





	1. The Comic

**Author's Note:**

> All art is by Laparoscopic, who is the best editor and beta reader a body could ask for.  
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The comic that started everything.


	2. The comic (text version)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The comic that started everything. (Text version)

"Hey." Sarah set her staff down, taking a seat next to Susan. The werewolf was curled up on the edge of the branch, staring down at the forest beneath her, arms wrapped around her knees. Sarah sidled up to her with a few short scoots. "Are you going to be okay?" 

"Are you?" Susan said, perhaps too quickly. 

"Not sure what you're talking about." 

"This is the first time I can remember seeing you without your enchantments on. Hell, I didn't even know you weren't a D-cup without your magic." Sarah stiffened a little. 

"Well, you never really asked, and it DOES serve as a kind of last-ditch totem armor..." 

"The totem of the tits?" Ah, and she had a smile out of her, even if it was muted. Sarah shrugged. 

"Little bit. I'll be fine when the mana burn wears off. What about you?" Susan's ears twitched. She curled into herself a little more. 

"How am I supposed to be?" 

"I don't know. You've had a lot of shock in the last few days." 

"Werewolves are fae-descended, I'm descended from - from HER - and -" She laughed sharply. Bitterly. Sarah sighed, wrapping an arm around her. For a moment, nothing was said. 

"It doesn't change anything, does it?" 

"Aside from not knowing what I am anymore?" 

"You're Susan. That's all that's important." 

"Pfft." 

"Okay...You're Susan. You don't drink mead because you hate how it tastes and how it makes you feel, you're physically incapable of sleeping in, you bathe twice a day if at all possible, you almost find sharpening your sword relaxing but the sound puts you on edge, you're embarrassed by your instinctive howling at the moon, you've never had a dance lesson in your life but you're graceful enough that you could top literally anyone in this town if you wanted to, you're blunt when a problem needs bluntness and delicate when someone could actually get hurt, and..." Sarah took a breath, pausing in her ramble. "And past all that, you're the bravest woman I know. And you've saved my life more times than I can count." She rested her head on the wolf's shoulder. A beat passed. Susan slowly de-turtled, legs sliding out in front of her. 

"Sarah." 

"Hm?" The wizard looked up, just as the werewolf started to lean in, and- 

  

  

  


	3. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the comic was posted.

"We need to talk about today's comic." 

"Why?" 

"You drew our self-inserts making out?" Susan's tone was more bemused than annoyed. It didn't stop Sarah from planting her face into the desk, nearly dropping her phone in the process. 

"They... started out as self-inserts." 

"Is Sarah not busty-magic-you? Is Susan not me with a bigger chip on her shoulder?" 

"Well, yes, but - come on. They've changed since I started writing this comic. The Wizard Sarah is a little more idealistic than me, a lot more upfront about her issues, and fails at snark when she gets flustered. Werewolf Su is a lot more racist and angry, and while she has issues with touch, they're... different." 

"PTSD and a deconstruction of child soldiers in a fantasy setting, right." Susan hadn't just been reading the strip for the shipping material, it seemed. Almost a year she'd been drawing the comic, and it still surprised her at times when her friends talked about reading it. 

"So... yeah. It just felt right for them. Lately it feels like they're just doing their own thing, and I'm just trying to keep up." 

"So. This isn't some... barely concealed message you're trying to get through to me. It's just character development branching out from reality." 

"Basically, yeah. Character development will do that. Some days it feels like they’re the ones writing the story, not me… and when I get going on multi-page updates, they’ll usually take _some_ kind of a turn I didn’t expect when I was plotting them out.” 

"Okay. I just... I felt like I needed to be sure of that. And thank you.” 

“Hey, I'll talk to you anytime. You know that.” 

“No, for, ah….” Susan coughed. “For making the bathing panel _tasteful.”_

“Oh. Uh.” Sarah looked back over the page. She hadn’t even really thought about that. Again, the multi-page updates tended to really get away from her. “No problem?” 

“I have to run. See you later.” The call ended, mercifully. 

The remainder of the day was normal. Sarah worked on her projects for class, and didn't go to Psych 102 because the instructor was out (again). She had lunch with Grace, spent a few hours playing cards at Salty Crackers, and a light dinner with her parents and Carol - no one really felt like cooking, which meant it was soup and grilled cheese night. 

As she lay in bed, flipping through her sketchbook, Susan's call came back to her. Tsk. Dork. Not that she wasn't a dork, but come on. It wasn't like she was in love with Susan. She was straight(ish)! And Susan could barely stand being touched, although she'd spontaneously hugged her more than once, and seemed to be okay with Sarah touching her. And every single point that the Wizard Sarah had made in comic was... 

Hm. 

Okay, granted, Susan didn't like drinking. That was accurate. The punctual waking and bathing was also accurate, she WAS based off real-Susan. Susan didn't howl, though she was frequently embarrassed by her instinctive urges, and she'd thrown Lil' Nase in a closet a few times because of it. She'd never seen Susan maintain her weapons, though in a similar vein some things like eating popcorn required some kind of workaround, some kind of way to mitigate her sensory issues for her to find them relaxing - Sarah had never known anyone to eat it with chopsticks before knowing her. She... she was that graceful, granted. Sarah suppressed a chuckle, thinking about the times when Susan had dodged crowds of distracted students without breaking stride or ceasing conversation. And- 

And… 

And Sarah found herself staring at her sketchbook. Intently. Most of her drawings were of Grace, just because Grace was a very enthusiastic model for her, but she had all of her friends represented. Tedd. Ellen. Ashley, in a few pages. And Susan. And Susan. And… She had quite a lot of Susan in there, all studies from when she didn't know she was being drawn, because people held themselves differently when they _knew._ She ran a hand over one page gently, looking over her own work. Looking over what she'd seen. Looking over the fine details that she knew like the back of her hand, that she probably knew better than her own face, that - 

-that- 

"Aw, frak." Sarah buried her face in the pillow, trying to hide a blush that no one was there to see, as if to convince herself that it didn’t exist. 

 

* * *

 

_Hey, Susan. So you know how you were trying to make sure I wasn't saying anything with that comic? Well clearly my pencil is my equivalent of Lil’ Nase! No. No. Hey Susan, I wasn't trying to say something, but I might possibly have a thing for you anyway? No. Urrrrgh. Say nothing. Just. Say nothing. You'll figure out what to say to her later. It's not like-_

“I think I have error bars to establish.” Susan's brow was knit as she stared at the coffee pot, as if trying to will it to brew faster. The kitchenette in the art department building was supposed to be for faculty use, but it had been commandeered as an unofficial miniature student union since the original building had been in renovations back in the nineties. The renovations were long since over: the students remained. Sarah leaned on an elbow as she sat down. 

“I didn't think you had statistics this semester.” 

“I don't. Personal error bars.” 

“This might make more sense after you have a few cups.” 

“Agreed.” Susan grumbled. She waited until the last few drops filtered into the pot, swapped for a freshly washed pot, refilled the maker, set it to brew another pot, and sat down next to Sarah… drinking straight from the pot she'd just removed. Sarah blinked a few times to make sure her eyes were still in working order. 

“I guess you had a long night?” _At least I wasn't the only one. Probably for different reasons._

“Three essays to work on. Two are finished. One needs proofreading and more article citations, but the core of the argument is in place.” 

“None of those are actually due anytime soon.” It wasn't an accusation. Just an observation. A slightly bewildered observation. Susan didn't respond for a moment, quaffing a huge gulp of the sacred black nectar. 

“They are not. I have to get used to unreasonable workloads, though.” 

“You won't be trying for law school for ages!” 

“And? I still have to be ready. It's also going to free up much of my time once I'm done.” 

“I guess that's true.” Sarah shifted in her seat. “So… error bars?” 

“Ah.” She grimaced. “My personal issues.” 

“Regarding… What?” 

“I have to narrow it down?” Susan smirked. 

“Well there's touch, sex, romance, men in general, dirty jokes, your dad, alcohol, the Next Generation movies-” Susan snorted at that. 

“The first one, mostly. My, ah, touch aversion.” Another massive gulp of coffee - she'd drained about half the pot. “It triggers with some stimuli, but not others. It bothers me when someone rubs up against the wall in a public place, but if I know it's straight from the dishwasher, I have no issues drinking from the pot.” She hefted her carafe in a mock victory toast. “I dodge contact with most people, but I'm at the point where I'm alright with casual contact with most of my friends. Especially you… and, well, Grace.” 

“Small wonder.” Grace was the _huggiest_ person Sarah had ever met. Anyone nearby her who was contact-averse had to slowly acclimate to being touched, or else flee. 

“So I'm trying to determine precisely where the margins are. Trying to cheat my way into more casual contact, trying to… nudge my neuroses to a more manageable zone.” 

“Seems like a good idea. How's it going?” 

“Slowly.” 

“Taking your time to feel things out?” Sarah took a glance at her phone - still a good while before she had to worry about getting to class. Really, she should set an alarm. 

“When the strategy of ‘boldly press onwards and try something inadvisable’ doesn’t work out, precisely.” Sarah’s eyebrows shot up at that statement. Susan shook her head briefly. “No, I haven’t done anything truly disastrous yet.” 

“I was about to ask…” 

“I _did_ decide, against all common sense, to try drinking from a public water fountain. The ensuing mouthwash-gargle only lasted the better part of half an hour.” The tiny grin that Susan developed afterwards suggested - quite strongly - that she was joking. Sarah snickered loudly, trying to hold in a full-scale giggle-fit. 

“Got any idea where you want to take your experiment next?” 

“Furthering my comfort with human contact.” Susan turned to the coffeepot again, abruptly taking a huge gulp. Sarah nodded - she could understand her wanting to wear that barrier down, for convenience’s sake if nothing else- “Would you be interested?” 

“In…?” Sarah’s brain refused to process the request. 

“Helping me with physical contact.” Susan clearly saw that as repeating herself. Sarah could see the little twitches of discomfort rising in her friend’s body language, the tension in her shoulders, the way she started to slump inwards… 

“Well, yeah, but how did you want to do that?” Sarah piped up quickly, not wanting Susan to misunderstand - she was totally okay with helping her with that! Totally. With touch. Possibly hugging. Possib— _dammit Sarah your brain should not go there right now!_

“I’ve successfully managed to give you headpats and/or hugs without having to break out the hand gel. I was thinking that - if you would be alright with it - we could arrange times when we would do things together, and I would simply be allowed physical contact on… _whatever level_ you’d be comfortable.” Sarah tried to think of that as not-suggestive. Her cheeks were still starting to warm up.Susan’s phrasing suggested that she wanted to do it when they were alone - but of course she’d want that, no eyes on them to make her self-conscious. 

“I’m comfortable with whatever you’re comfortable with. Wanna try it tonight?” 

“Er… tomorrow, maybe? Tonight I’m going to be finishing an essay and actually _sleeping._ ” 

“Tell me you’re at least going to have a few good nights of sleep after this?” 

“That much I can promise. I only have my final projects to worry about after these, and I’m taking a few weeks before I start on those.” 

“Six-plus weeks early for your final projects. You aren’t just kidding with me now, are you?” 

“Two oral presentations with powerpoint and two essays, with the requirements already listed in the syllabus. That isn’t terribly bad.” The pot was nearly empty. Susan finished it, and then rose to set it in the dishwasher. “You aren’t getting a jump-start on any of your assignments?” 

“Not really. Everything for my art courses has to be done in workshop hours, except the sketch diary, and I already have enough in there to double the requirement. Art history and music appreciation are in-class exams, and you can’t really _cram_ for those… you really have to let the lectures settle over time. And I can’t really dissect a squid outside of the bio lab. Unless I get to the sushi place too early in the afternoon.” 

“I’m fairly certain they’d just have the tentacles in the fridge.” 

“Partial credit if it’s not the full squid?” Sarah gave Susan a mock-hopeful expression as the taller girl sat down again. 

“Given your teachers, I think you could argue it.” Susan settled in, glanced at her phone, and then frowned… standing up once more. “I should probably go.” 

“Problems?” 

“The TA’s on the warpath again. Last time she did this she locked the door two minutes _before_ class actually started.” 

“Lovely.” 

“I’ll text you later.” Susan paused at the door. “And thanks.” 

“Any time.” No explanation was needed. The less Sarah made a thing about it, the better Susan would feel about it. It didn’t make Sarah any less nervous about it, but that was no fault of Susan’s. Just her own head, making things complicated when they didn’t need to be. 

She’d talk to her about it later. If those intrusive thoughts kept up. And if they didn’t, if they went back to normal… then no need, right? 

Right. 

 

* * *

 

“You’re sure this isn’t going to disrupt your workflow?” Susan hung her jacket up. It was, perhaps, just as well that they were doing this at Sarah’s house. Her parents were in Toronto for the weekend, Carol wasn’t going to be stopping back anytime soon, and they’d have uninterrupted quiet. 

“My courses aren’t that intense. I’m fine.” Sarah rocked from heel to toe and back. She wasn’t anxious. She totally wasn’t. This was going to be fine. 

“I meant your comic production, actually.” And that ended Sarah’s rocking a moment. 

“I have a little bit of a buffer right now. I can miss a few days without it affecting things… and the cutaway after the Big Damn Kiss made it really easy to roll into the next few strips.” She had to keep her readers a _little_ on edge after that bombshell. Moving to the Elliots and Justin and some ridiculous muscle puns worked wonders for that. 

“So you have the next strip with the Not-Actually-Us ship sketched out?” Oh, now _that_ was interesting. Susan was clearly intrigued. Interested. The way she was gently prodding and her carefully neutral expression meant she cared more than she let on. For a hundredth  of a second, Sarah almost read something into that, before she forced her mind back to _Well it IS that damn good, isn’t it? Always nice to have a dedicated reader..._

“Nope. I have another week or so of resolution and jokes with the twins.” 

“Mh.” Her face betrayed almost nothing, but Sarah almost saw disappointment in Susan’s eye. Or maybe she just imagined that. While smaller than hers, Sarah’s living room spoke of cozy, well-lived in comfort. The couch wasn’t a huge affair, just a normal sofa. While it was a stereotype well-loved and well-used that the recliner next to the sofa was a man’s throne, the overstuffed thing that sat there was her mother’s favorite perch, and had been changed out half a dozen times over as many years, as reclining mechanisms jammed or broke and ‘better’ chairs presented themselves at yard sales and upscale thrift shops. The TV was probably half the size of Susan’s wide screen, but it’d do for their purposes. Sarah tossed Susan the remote. 

“Any ideas for a movie?” 

“Many, but I think I have the perfect selection.” As they sat down, Susan retrieved the remote, and with a few quick taps, she queued up an older film - one they’d both already seen before. _The Jerk._ As Steve Martin went through his opening narration, eventually rolling through the patently absurd _I was born a poor black child at the age of two,_ Sarah became quite aware that Susan was pressed right up against her side. It was… not unpleasant. Honestly, she liked it quite a bit. As she did when Susan’s arm wrapped around her waist. 

It didn’t take long for Sarah to puzzle things out. The movie was static. Something that was ridiculous, that took pride in being stupid in clever ways, that Susan could watch without really watching. A tension diffuser. A control rod in what could have been a nuclear reactor. 

Sarah was sure that she made a few snarky comments on certain jokes. Susan had wry responses. She could barely remember any of them after they happened. She seemed hyper-aware of Susan’s hand. 

And then it slid under her shirt. 

It was just… _there._ Against her side. There was nothing untoward about it, beneath the fact that it was skin-to-skin contact, and Susan wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary besides that. 

Then Sarah became aware of the fact that Susan wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. 

“You okay?” Sarah’s voice was soft, gentle. Susan was blushing, staring down at Sarah. The taller girl nodded once. 

“I’m… _copacetic._ I can feel part of my brain freaking out that I’m actually making physical contact with you, but I can keep it… _pacified._ I just keep telling myself ‘It’s Sarah. It’s okay.’ It seems to be working.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Are you still okay with this?” 

“Yeah. It’s-” She almost stopped herself, but the words came out anyway. “It’s nice.” 

“Are you okay with me going further? Touching you in a more… _focused,_ intense way?” It sounded like she was trying to clear up any misconceptions with the clarification, but it only sounded _more_ suggestive. Sarah still nodded. For a moment, Susan did nothing, probably just processing Sarah’s approval. Then she turned halfway, tucking her leg under her, and pulled Sarah closer. 

The positioning was a little awkward, Susan basically glommed onto her side, but Sarah wasn’t going to tell her how to do the touching. And there was still that very happy hand up against her side, skin to skin, that felt quite a bit better than it should have. As close as she was, she still didn’t quite get what Susan whispered to her, but she gathered the intent from the movement of her hands: shift positions. She turned her back to Susan, and ended up leaning back against her, with Susan’s right leg up against hers, her left leg hanging off the front of the sofa. More comfortable, even if it would be better on her bed DAMMIT SARAH. She shoved the thought down before she could imagine herself and Susan on her bed, tangled in the sheets, lips locked and legs entwined— 

She didn’t think that at _all._

Susan’s head tucked into her shoulder, hands wrapped around her waist. She felt warm. Warm and soft, and generally… very… very natural. She could tell that Susan wasn’t really watching the movie at all anymore, just paying attention to her. And yet, she wasn’t rushing. She barely moved for the next few minutes. Was she enjoying the contact? Allowing herself to relax? Processing just how she felt? With her back to Susan, Sarah couldn’t be sure. She didn’t feel tense, though. Physically, Sarah was sure that her hands and arms felt relaxed-ish. Loose. And she couldn’t sense any tension behind her in the ephemeral way that would suggest that Susan wasn’t enjoying herself. 

When the movie ended, Sarah finally craned her head to look back at Susan. Her gaze was quite focused, first on Sarah, then on her hands, then back to Sarah, her expression unreadable. 

“Hey.” Sarah smiled up at her. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I’m trying not to think.” Susan’s tone was level. Calm, but not entirely relaxed. “Just… observing, really.” 

“Mm? Any conclusions to share?” Sarah was genuinely curious. 

“You like this.” 

“It’s nice, yeah.” Gods, that came out squeaky. Susan didn’t respond for a few more seconds. 

“You’d… be okay with me going further.” And now it was Sarah’s turn to pause. If she was being smart, she’d suggest they could wait. They didn’t have to push things. They could just be happy with how far Susan had come today. But she really… _really_ wanted to keep going. 

“Yeah. But none of that has to do with _your_ thoughts. Just what you’re seeing in me.” Sarah tilted her head slightly to one side. Susan’s cheeks looked like they were going to ignite, and her eyes widened just the _slightest_ bit… and slowly. Slowly. She nodded. Just once. 

“I’m enjoying myself.” The comment felt tentative - like she was about to add something else, and was having trouble with precisely what words should come next. Sarah didn’t probe, but she was probably staring. “I want to…” And that ended with a lapse into a deep, impenetrable silence. She wasn't looking at Sarah anymore. She was pointedly looking at nothing, at the wall straight ahead. 

“I said I was good with whatever you wanted to do. I still am.” Sarah kept her voice quiet - soothing. Susan took a few more seconds to answer. A few more nerve wracking seconds. 

“I…” Susan took a breath. She slowly uncurled from Sarah, and straightened up in her seat. “Remember what I said about careening in face-first?” 

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t use that _exact_ phrase, but yes.” 

“Well… that’s kind of where my mind is going right now. I know we aren’t… you know… _like_ that, but my mind can’t let go of the thought.” Like that? Like _that?_ Sarah’s jaw came off its hinge for a few seconds, creaking back and forth as the weight hit her. She closed her mouth with an audible _click_ of teeth, moistened her lips, and made sure - or as sure as she could be - that her voice wasn’t going to crack when she spoke. 

“You suggested a setup where you could touch me however you wanted. I… kind of… I don’t want to say _assumed_ or _hoped,_ but I figured that something sensual, if not sexual, could be in the works.” Sarah still scooted back a little, giving Susan a bit more room. 

“That’s the problem. While I would be willing to extend this exercise to the realm of the sexual, assuming my brain continued to not trip over itself…” She was having trouble looking at Sarah now, and she closed her eyes as she blurted out the last part. “I don’t think I can separate _sexual_ from _romantic_ as easily as I hoped I could.” 

“Do you want to keep the two separate?” And from ‘barely able to look at Sarah’, things had now shifted to ‘unable to look away’. The two stared at each other, Susan blank and stunned, Sarah hoping she hadn’t said too much, too fast. 

“...maybe not.” Susan cleared her throat. A few seconds ticked by as the two said nothing. Sarah wasn’t sure what to say, and Susan looked just as conflicted. “I think… I think I need a bit.” 

“Okay.” Sarah’s chest seized up. Panic sunk in as Susan rose - and headed for the kitchen, instead of the door. When she heard the door to the freezer open, Sarah let out a breath that she didn’t quite realize she’d been holding. 

“Do you have any ice cream?” 

“No?” Susan crossed her arms, brow knitting, acquiring a distant look in her eye. 

“Hm. Ice cream is required.” 

“Circle K?” 

“Circle K.” 

Haagen-daaz was acquired. The topic was changed. 

They had said too much, too fast. That was all that Sarah could figure. The moment she’d asked if Susan _wanted things to become romantic,_ even if it wasn’t quite that direct, things were bound to become strange. Perhaps this was best. A little breathing room. A little time for Susan to chew over how she wanted this to unfold. 

That’s what Sarah told herself, anyway. 

 

* * *

 

The next week, Susan was waiting for Sarah outside of her figure drawing class as it ended. They hadn’t been avoiding each other - morning coffee was still part of their routine, and they’d both been hanging out in Tedd’s basement together yesterday. They just hadn’t… talked about… _that._ Sarah gave her a wave, smiling a little more brightly than she probably felt at the moment. Scratch that - _much_ more brightly than she felt. Sarah felt like her stomach had been replaced with a soda bottle that had been through an earthquake or two. Susan, meanwhile, looked pensive, but not gloomy. Not a great sign, not a terrible sign. 

“Can we talk?” The first words out of Susan’s mouth weren’t what Sarah expected, but she nodded. 

“Walk and talk?” 

“Ideally.” 

“Sure.” People were less prone to listening in if you were walking by a place rather than sitting somewhere, and the campus did have a few good places you could get to where people weren’t around every day. Sarah’s favorite place was the indoor handball courts - soundproofed, cool, dim, and you could lock the door so no one got beaned by a rubber ball going 70mph. Plus, the path down there from the art building was relatively secluded and lightly wooded on both sides. Sarah shouldered her satchel, as Susan crossed her arms behind her. It took a second for the verbal dam to start to leak. 

“Your comic isn’t as far off from real life as you stated. Or as you intended. Or… however you want to put it.” Susan said. 

“It isn’t.” Sarah conceded the point readily, her heart pounding. 

“We both wanted… we wanted things to go farther at your house, and I’m… I’m trying not to freak out thinking about that.” 

“Because you’re not really ready to go farther, or because of me?” Sarah had to ask. 

“ _Both._ I mean - we’re best friends, and we have been for years, and I don’t - I don’t want to screw that up, and I’m… I'm…” 

“You’re Susan.” Sarah smiled again. “You're physically incapable of sleeping in, you bathe twice a day if at all possible, your subconscious embarrasses you whenever Lil’ Nase displays it to the  world, you've never had a dance lesson in your life but you're graceful enough that you could top literally anyone in this town if you wanted to-” 

“ _Sarah._ ” Susan burst out in snickers, sounding like she was trying to hold them back. She wiped a tear from her eye, the tension shattered. “You are not - you’re _not_ trying to seduce me with a line from your comic!” 

“I changed it up a little! It still applies!” 

“Nope. You’re going to have to come up with something different if we’re going to do this.” Do this? Do - were they doing this? Was _this_ a thing that was _doing_ now? 

They were. 

Well then. 

“...I’m in love with my best friend, and I’m terrified, and trying not to fuck it up, and I just want you to _touch_ me again.” Susan stopped walking. Her face was unreadable. Sarah swallowed hard. “Susan?” 

“That did it.” Susan reached down and squeezed her hand, and as they rounded the corner, Sarah realized that Susan had _parked_ next to the courts today, that she was leading Sarah more towards her car and less towards the impromptu Chamber of Silence. 

“So. More touch practice?” Sarah grinned. 

“I think that can be arranged. My house this time?” 

“Certainly.” She wasn’t going to rush in, despite the rising adrenaline telling her to _just go for it._ She was going to cuddle, and they were going to talk, and _possibly_ kiss if Susan was feeling up for it, and… and… who knew? 

 

* * *

 

_Q: When do you update?_

_A: The Wizard Sarah updates Monday, Wednesday and Friday around 1 am, assuming one page per update. If I’m doing a major multi-page update I might take as long as a week to prepare it, but I’ll also say ‘NEXT UPDATE IS (this date)’ on the main page._

_Q: Is Sarah a self-insert?_

_A: Characters in the comic are based on me and my friends, but none of them_ are _us._

_Q: I still think they're self inserts._

_A: If that was true, Susan would be less murderous, Nanase wouldn’t be evil, Justin and the Elliots wouldn’t be dating, and Sarah and Susan would be._

_Q: Did you break up Sarah and Susan just so you could say that?!_

_A: Maybe._

_Q: YOU ^%[\\!?_

_A: :)_


End file.
